Bulletproof
by Raven Wolff
Summary: What happens when marriage gets shot by bullets of hostility? Brittana!Married. Cop!Santana. Though, Santana is a bit OOC, actually most of the characters are. Based on Fireproof. Please review. DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN FIREPROOF OR GLEE. DON'T SUE ME.


Santana Lopez flung the fridge door open, only to find it deprived of its contents. She scowled darkly. Brittany had forgotten to do the grocery again.

There was nothing edible in the fridge except for a pitcher of cold water, a carton of milk and a box of Lucky Charms. Sighing loudly, Santana pulled the cereal box out of the fridge and looked for a bowl. Once she had found one, Santana set herself to pour the cereal into the container, only to find out that the cereal box had nothing but a few remnants of the said cereal.

Santana let out an angry huff as she leaned on the fridge. She pulled the milk carton and smelled its contents. It was already expired. She angrily drained the carton onto the sink and threw it in the garbage bag inside the cupboard under the sink. The tan woman sat on the kitchen counter, contemplating on what to do.

The front door clicked, and Santana knew then and there that her wife had arrived home. She could hear Brittany's ballet flats making squeaky sounds against the vinyl hallway. Her wife came into view a few seconds later, messy blonde hair in a bun, loose shirt hanging over her shoulders and droopy, tired smile on her face.

If Santana weren't so tired and hungry after a 12-hour shift at the police station, she would have showered her wife a thousand butterfly kisses.

"Hi," Brittany said softly at her. Santana grunted tiredly in response to her wife. The blonde woman strode towards the sink and had herself a glass of water. Then, she walked over the fridge and opened it. A scowl etched across Brittany's features.

"Santana," she said edgily. "When are you planning to do the grocery again?"

Santana's eyes darkened once she heard the tone in her wife's voice. She's tired, she's had a bad day and now Brittany was trying to tell her that it was her fault they did not have any food in their fridge. "You don't need to tell me that, Brittany," she replied shortly as she impatiently clinked her car keys on the counter. "You should be the one doing the grocery."

"Somebody tell me why?" a whiny tone came from Brittany's mouth.

"You're the one who's got the time to do the grocery," Santana shrugged curtly.

"Why is it that the dishes from last night weren't done?" Brittany gestured at the dirty dishes soaking in spoiled milk in the sink. "And why is it that there's spoiled milk here? Did you just pour spoiled milk in here? How many times do I have to tell you that you don't just pour the spoiled milk on the dishes?" the tone in the blonde woman's voice was getting more impatient by the minute.

"You know what, Brittany? I don't need this," Santana angrily stood up from the bar stool where she was sitting. By now, Brittany had turned to see what made Santana so angry and the two of them were now facing each other. "I don't fucking need to listen to you nagging about what to do and what not because I am not a fucking five-year old!"

Brittany was shocked by her wife's outburst. Terrified, she was forced to take a step back – away from the seething Santana. "Somebody in this house will have to do the grocery sometime," she replied in a small voice.

"Well, that somebody's not gonna be me! I've had a shitty day, I barely have time to fucking take a look at myself and you ask me to do the grocery? I'm a goddamn police officer, Brittany, in case you've forgotten," Santana yelled. "My work demands me to be there all of the time and you ask me to do the grocery or wash the dishes? How about you do those things? You've got so much time," Santana said and then angrily strode out towards the backyard.

Angrily, Santana lit up a cigarette. Brittany was left in the kitchen to watch her wife fume in anger in their backyard. Tears rolled one by one from Brittany's eyes. Once she was done with the cigarette, she angrily stomped on it against the flagstones and walked towards her car. Brittany broke down crying as she watched Santana's car whiz away from their house.

Santana closed her eyes and leaned on the bench. She let out a long, slow sigh. There was a few moments of silence in the police station, and then she heard the unmistakable sounds of approaching footsteps.

"Hey," Officer Puckerman greeted her silently as he took a seat on the other side of the bench. "Sup?"

"Hi," Santana smiled weakly at him. Noah Puckerman had been one of her closest friends and they go way back in high school. And even if they were already nearing their thirties, he still managed to act like he was still a teenage boy around her and for that, Santana felt like he was one of the most unchanging people in her life.

"Thought your shift's long over?" he asked. "Don't Brittany ever missyou?"

Santana just rolled her eyes.

"Oh, you two had a fight," the higher police officer said, like he had just realized it.

"Yeah," Santana grumbled.

"Tell me about it," the man laid a comforting hand on Santana's shoulder. "And I want you to be honest, Santana – because that's how you and I talk about shit."

"It's just..." she sighed. "She's just...she's just so tiring, you know? I mean, today, she just nagged at me for not doing the grocery, then she bitched at me for spilling the spoiled milk directly on the sink. She sounds so whiny and so difficult and I hate her. She is insensitive and she doesn't think about me. My job is just so demanding and I can't have her asking too much from me!"

_On the other side of the town, at Blaine Anderson's house, Brittany Pierce-Lopez sat in the middle of her friends – Mercedes Jones, Tina Chang, Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel. Mercedes had her arms wrapped comfortably around the crying blonde's shoulders, while Kurt was rubbing Brittany's back over and over again. Tina was the one to keep saying that everything will be okay and Blaine was just about as worried as everyone else who were sitting in their living room._

"_Today, I told her to do the shopping and she just outright yelled at me about having not enough time. I know that she's just so busy at the police station," Brittany sobbed. "But I just wanted her to do the grocery, is that too much to ask from her?"_

In the police station, Santana was still sitting with Officer Puckerman. "And I drove away from the house and ended up here, because I can't stand her near me," Santana cringed. It wasn't entirely true, but she was so mad at her wife. "And right now, she's probably off with her friends and she's probably having a crying fit for being a bitch in the first place."

_Brittany sniffed. "And walked out the room and had a smoke in the backyard which again, I hate so much. Then, she just drove away. She's just being a massive bitch and I don't think I can stand being in the same house as her anymore."_

"And probably, she and her friends will probably do some stupid girly thing like hugging together...or a...a group hug, you know?" Santana made a circling figure with her arms. Officer Puckerman just looked at her with hidden amusement.

_Blaine walked over behind Brittany. "It's okay, Britt-Britt. We're here for you," he hugged her friend. Everyone else followed to hug Brittany._

"_Everyone let's give Britt-Britt a comfort-me-group-hug," Kurt said. Everybody hugged Brittany tight._

Officer Puckerman patted her shoulder once again and walked out of the room. He came back a while later, carrying a salt shaker and a pepper shaker. Santana looked at him quizzically. He held them up and just smiled. "Do you have any idea where did Finn put those super glue canisters? Yeah, the ones he used to fix his gun holsters?"

Santana just shook her head. "The fuck you're doing with that, Puck?"

"Just showin' you some wisdom, babe. Now, where are those adhesives?" he wiggled his eyebrows.

"It's on the far rack," Santana nodded towards the end of the room, where several cupboards stood.

Puck went over and fumbled for the glue bottle. He seemed to have done something in the far side of the room and came back once again to the bench. He sat beside the Latina cop once again and held out his hand. He was holding the salt and pepper shakers, but this time, they were glued together with the super glue.

"What the hell, Puckerman?" Santana scowled.

"Look, you and Brittany are like this," Officer Puckerman held up the shakers higher. "You guys are married, and being married is like this."

Santana watched him in silence.

"You can't separate them," and as if emphasizing his point, Officer Puckerman pulled the shakers apart. They stayed stuck. "Because if you separate them, you have to break one of 'em. That's like you and Brittany."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Santana whined. "She's a bitch and she's always angry at me."

"Then make her stop being angry at you," Officer Puckerman said. The PA system called his name to attention before Santana could even answer him. Quickly, Officer Puckerman strode and left the room, leaving Santana to her thoughts and the salt-and-pepper shaker on the table looking at Santana.


End file.
